


I Kinda Miss You

by Orange_Coyote



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Short & Sweet, the avengers have a group chat, tony is tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 15:55:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Coyote/pseuds/Orange_Coyote
Summary: A moment in the life of newly coupled up Steve Rogers and Tony Stark.





	I Kinda Miss You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MDDLR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MDDLR/gifts).

> this is just self-indulgent cuteness inspired by a post I saw online  
gifted to martha because she said "you've already written it you just need to write the beginning" and now here we are

Being a superhero with a long past wasn’t always Steve’s favorite aspect of life, but he _did_ like being able to make a difference, to have a positive impact on communities across the country; to put his name and money where his mouth was by donating to charities, visiting children’s hospitals to brighten up someone’s day, and speaking at well-meaning fundraiser events. He didn’t like the fact these events took him away from Tony, liked it even less when the business trips were overlapping Tony’s own, making it so that they ended up on opposite sides of the continent. Like right now, with Tony promoting a new product launch for S.I. while Steve was holed up in Boston for a handful of university commencement speeches.

Steve may have an irrational attachment to this ratty Boston apartment, as Tony had pointed out on multiple occasions, but something about the view over South Boston gave him a happy nostalgia of growing up, sitting here in a neighborhood filled to the brim with Irish tradition. Now he’s glad he held onto it after that fateful mission decades ago, where SHIELD had needed him undercover to fish out rumors regarding an underground trafficking ring. Because right now, sitting on his IKEA couch with a name he can’t pronounce and clutching his laptop, watching the sun turning toward the horizon through his tiny glass window, Steve has never felt more at home. Well, that’s not really true. There are other places, other faces, that provide him the same sense of warmth and familiarity. Bucky’s studio, back when the two of them kept each other warm on long winter nights passing a bottle of cheap whiskey back and forth, words pouring from their lips like flames of a nonexistent fireplace. The tower, after a few months of settling in, had been domesticity and friendship and bad jokes and walking in on Clint hiding from Natasha’s wrath in the vents too many times to count. Eventually any room that held Tony proved to be home.

The screen crackles to life in his lap, bringing Steve’s attention to a plush couch. A young man in a sharp suit holds a microphone and looks straight at the camera. To the man’s left is an empty cushion’s worth of space, and there, right on the edge of the screen, Steve can see the outline of Tony’s thigh bundled in tailored dress slacks. Would it be weird to say he could recognize the slope of that leg anywhere?

“Welcome everyone. I’m Tom, reporting for Tech Moguls, and we have a treat tonight! The legendary Stark Industries President and CEO –“

“I let go of that title a long time ago,” Tony’s voice filters in, “and I’m sure Ms. Potts would kill me if I tried to take it back now.”

“Of course, my apologies. The man every person wants the ear of, a man world renowned for his innovations, a man who really needs no introduction even though I’m required to give him one, the one and only Tony Stark.”

The camera shot pans out, showing Tony lounging comfortably on the opposite end of the couch. His collar undone and tie missing, Steve knows this is the last of the press junket Pepper insisted upon. Two weeks prior Tony had been all press smiles, perfect posture, and pressed suits. Now his eyes have that telltale gleam which, to a trained eye, says exactly how tired he is.

“Mr. Stark, thank you for joining us tonight. We’re all well aware you’re a busy man, especially with the upcoming launch. Can you tell us a bit about how you came up with the product? What inspired this new breakthrough?”

Tony tells the same story he’s told the past two weeks over eight different interviews. Steve could repeat the speech word for word at this point, though he’d only watched the first two interviews before Tony told him it was a waste of time and not to bother. But for some reason Tony texted the link for this one twenty minutes ago, asking Steve to watch. Steve did so without question, figuring since it was the last interview maybe something different would occur. Plus, there was no way he’d say no to seeing Tony’s face after two weeks of separation. Even with the wonders of modern technology, the video chats and constant texts and nightly phone calls, Steve missed his fella with his whole heart.

Forty minutes pass with the expected pre-selected questions, a handful of questions sent in via social media, and a rundown on the best restaurants in the Los Angeles area. Eventually the interview draws to a close, Steve sighing with relief in Tony’s stead.

“One final question, if I may.”

“Of course.”

“What are your upcoming plans now, with the new launch soon to be out of the way?”

Tony straightens in his seat on screen, Steve subconsciously doing the same on his IKEA couch. “Well,” Tony says, “it’s been great seeing everyone have such a positive reaction. But now, I think it’s about time I catch a plane. I have someone in Boston I kinda want to see, so that’s where I’m heading.”

Steve smiles, feels his cheeks flush under Tony’s gaze. The man’s looking straight at the camera now, straight at _Steve_, and Steve marvels over the effect Tony could have on him from thousands of miles away. Those brown eyes filled with love, with want, with longing, all in the blink of an eye, before Tony turns back to the interviewer and smiles, back to professional and personable.

Tom, the poor kid, stumbles over his parting words. “That sounds great, Mr. Stark. Hope you have a safe flight.” Then he turns back to the camera, eyes wide. “That’s all we have time for folks. A big thanks to Tony Stark for joining us. Make sure you pick up your own Immortal Tamagotchi this Friday in a toy store near you.”

The camera clicks off and the screen goes black, the live chat box beneath going wild with speculation as to just who Tony was flying to Boston to visit. Understandably, he and Tony aren’t out to the public just yet. Just under a month and it still feels too new, too fragile, to throw into the limelight and the scrutiny of their adoring public. Steve rolls his eyes at the thought, exiting out of the screen. He looks through his emails, just in case, before shutting the computer down and putting it on the coffee table in front of him. He leans over and pulls his phone off its charger, just as a flurry of buzzes and dings ring out in the relative silence.

Nat: You two make me want to vomit.

Thor: Congratulations my dear friend! It seems you will be reunited with your love soon!

Bruce: I’m surprised he lasted this long to be honest.

Nat: You and me both, Bruce.

Sam: Ew. Ew. Ew.

Clint: Sam grow up you’re ruining the vibe supportive friends only

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at their antics, wisely deciding to not scroll up further and see what else could possibly be lurking since they apparently had seen the interview themselves.

Steve: Thank you Thor.

Steve: Sorry Nat.

Steve: I agree Bruce.

Steve: Close your eyes Sam. It’ll be over soon and then Clint will go back to talking about whatever gourmet hot dog he eats next.

Steve: You’re one to talk, Clint, but I appreciate that.

Of course, Clint takes this response as encouragement to go on an endless tirade, pinging back and forth between gourmet hot dogs being a conspiracy by the wealthy to gentrify even the foods they looked down upon and describing in detail how badly Steve has it for Tony. Answer: very badly. The others put in their two cents every other message, and while their words are amusing, Steve decides to put his phone down for a while and grab something to eat.

A few hours later, Steve sits on the couch while sketching. He’d put his phone on silent after he’d finished his snack, leaving the others to their own devices without his input. As much as he loves those people like family, some days they are just too much to handle. Feeling satisfied with his progress – a child at the hospital who loved drawing had inspired Steve to create a fantastical herd of unicorns, which he planned to give to them when he went to visit the next day – Steve places the page of thick paper down. He grabs his phone to check the time, an annoying habit he had picked up from living in this century, and immediately regrets it.

He holds the phone away, other hand covering his eyes as he wishes his eyesight and memory weren’t so impeccable thanks to the serum. That was something he would _never_ forget, ugh Clint _why._

Of course, that’s the moment Tony makes his grand entrance.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” Tony asks, casually tossing his suit jacket in the direction of the unoccupied kitchen chair (the other chair has his winter coat tossed on top).

Steve looks up at Tony, a smile fighting a scowl across his lips. The scowl wins. “Clint is being his usual self in the group chat.”

Tony sits next to Steve, takes the phone from lax fingers, and reads the messages from the entire team. He laughs. “Can’t say the man lacks creativity.”

Steve’s lips lift in the quickest smile Tony has ever seen before they fall back into a neutral expression. “This is all your fault.”

Tony places the phone on the coffee table, leans forward into Steve’s personal space. “I can make it up to you,” he murmurs against Steve’s lips.

Steve just smiles, pulls away and says, “I want pizza.”


End file.
